


Will you love me like you loved me (and I’ll never ask for more)

by Some_Dead_Guy



Series: Grindeldore Oneshots [8]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Duel of 1945, M/M, Mild Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-20 21:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21288503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Dead_Guy/pseuds/Some_Dead_Guy
Summary: In which even if everyone thinks that Albus Dumbledore had won the duel of 1945, neither of them walk away feeling victorious.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald
Series: Grindeldore Oneshots [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1510523
Comments: 6
Kudos: 92





	Will you love me like you loved me (and I’ll never ask for more)

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read so I’m sorry for any and all mistakes!

Gellert is blessedly by himself when their blood pact is broken.

He’s standing over his desk in his personal chambers, lost in thought, when he feels it. It’s excruciating, it feels as if every ounce of blood in his body has been set on fire, as if he’s burning from the inside out. He clutches his chest even when it does nothing to appease the pain, and he can’t manage a scream or shout. He thinks for a moment that he is going to die, that Albus and him will die together and he wants to laugh at how horribly  _ right  _ that would be, but then it stops.

He gasps, nothing left but a stinging feeling under his skin. Tears prick at his eyes, and no matter how hard he wills them away they trickle down his cheeks, curve under his chin. Albus is not longer tied to him, he’s finally cut him away, and Gellert half expects Albus to come barging in right at that moment and slay Gellert where he stands.

He doesn’t, and instead Gellert is left alone, choking on sobs and  _ burning. _

———

Destruction lays out before Gellert, the air pungent with the scent of ash, of their crackling spells and curses and sweat. Gellert is on his knees, disarmed of his wand, it left laying in the mud somewhere behind him. He does not grasp for it, does not crawl or cry or whine, only sits there kneeling and staring at the ground.

The sound of his pants mix with Albus’s, and Gellert knows he is only a few feet away, and Gellert does not know whether or not he wants to look up and  _ see  _ him.

And Gellert does not want to look at the living, breathing, proof that he is weak for only one person in this world. Gellert had the perfect opportunity to strike Albus dead, had seen Albus stumble, falter, completely open for only a second but that was enough time for Gellert to kill him.

But he didn’t.

Gellert had froze, and in that one moment he could only see his  _ lover,  _ a brilliant, young, beautiful, boy with long auburn hair and deep blue eyes. All he could feel was gentle kisses during late summer nights, hear whispers of  _ I love you  _ and promises that were never kept. He had frozen up and Albus had his chance, and now Gellert is here, feeling weak and invigorated and angry and  _ tired. _

Albus walks forward, Gellert can hear him and with every step he takes Gellert’s breath becomes harsher, and his heart beats harder. Gellert can see Albus’s shoes, can smell him, can hear his breathing, and he is standing directly over Gellert.

Gellert clenches his hands where they lay at his side, and when he looks up at Albus he feels like he’s seeing him for the first time all over again. He looks up and even if Albus is older, even if there are more lines on his face now, and his hair has become less vibrant, his eyes are still the same. They’re still just as beautiful, just as blue, and even if Gellert is weak he couldn’t have chosen a better person to fall to.

They are silent, only looking at each other, Albus towering over a Gellert who is still on his knees. Albus would look triumphant to an outsider, standing above a defeated foe, but he looks anything but. 

Albus’s face is a careful mask, forced into neutrality, but Gellert can see the pinch in his brow, his lips, the way his jaw is locked. His eyes are swimming with unbridled emotion, and no matter how much he wants to hide it Gellert can see it, because this Albus is still  _ his  _ Albus. This Albus is still his beautiful, regal, brilliant Albus from their youth and Gellert can still see every wonderful part of him.

Suddenly, Albus kneels down and Gellert almost gasps. He’s on level with Gellert now, his  _ equal,  _ because neither of them have won on this day. Everyone else will be cheering, the  _ horrible  _ Gellert Grindelwald brought down by the  _ great  _ Albus Dumbledore.

But Albus will not celebrate, he will not cheer or laugh.

“Gellert.” Albus whispers, the first to break, to give in just for a moment.

“Albus.” Gellert whispers back, and he remembers them doing things like this in their youth. They would repeat their names to each other, when teasing, when coming to a silent decision, or simply wanting to be reminded of who they were with.

This time it’s said in a goodbye.

“I–” Albus chokes, and he’s trying to keep himself from crying, his eyes glassy and wet, “I never wanted it to end like this.”

Gellert sees Albus swallow, sees his lips quiver, and no matter how hard he is trying to contain himself tears drop unaffected down his cheeks.

“I know.” Gellert says, and his voice is a quiet murmur, “But perhaps it was inevitable.”

Albus shakes his head, “No, no, we could’ve done something–” his voice cracks.

Albus looks overwhelmed, face almost drowning in his own tears, and Gellert reaches out because this may as well be the last time he ever sees Albus and there is no use in being careful now.

He holds Albus’s face between his hands, whispers things intending to soothe, because Gellert does not want the last thing he sees of Albus him suffering, falling apart under his fingertips.

Albus pushes towards him, puts his forehead against Gellert’s and Gellert can feel his mind touching his. He lets Albus in, let’s him flitter between his memories, thoughts, emotions. 

“I couldn’t kill you.” Gellert says, “I couldn’t.” And he wants to be angry, but he just feels resigned, and as if he should’ve known that he’d truly never be able to kill Albus.

Albus has stopped crying now, but when he exhales it’s shaky and wet. Gellert feels it, feels Albus’s breath on his face, his warm hands grasping at his shoulders.

“I know.” Albus says, and he does because he was in Gellert’s head, had seen what Gellert had saw, had felt what he had felt. Gellert did not know how much he had missed Albus’s presence in his mind until he’s retreating out, and Gellert is left alone again.

Albus pulls away, but only so much that their heads are not touching anymore. They’re close,  _ so  _ close, and Gellert has missed Albus so much that he does not know how he had not broken apart before now.

And this is the last time he will see him and there will never be a time in which he doesn’t miss Albus again.

So Gellert surges forward, catches Albus’s chapped lips with his own, because he is not patient or careful. Albus shudders, whimpers and presses back against Gellert so hard that Gellert thinks he could’ve chipped a tooth. They kiss for the first time in decades, and Gellert pours everything into it and Albus responds with just as much fervor.

They kiss and touch and push and pull until Gellert has to move away, panting. Albus is gasping just as much, and he’s nosing Gellert’s cheek, his jaw, pants against Gellert’s neck and twists Gellert’s coat in his hands.

“We can not stay like this.” Gellert whispers, but runs his fingers through Albus’s hair despite his words. Gellert holds Albus, and Albus holds him back, two broken pieces that do not fit together but have nothing else to make them whole.

“I know.” Albus says, kisses under Gellert’s ear, his neck, his cheekbone. “I know.”

And Gellert should say something cruel, should spit at Albus, make him feel as if he’s betrayed Gellert, tell Albus that he could just let him go or better yet come with him because it is not too late for Gellert to whisk Albus away.

He instead says, “I love you.”

Albus chokes on an exhale, causing it to stutter and pitch.

“I love you, mein schatz.” 

Albus presses into him harder, digs his face into Gellert’s shoulder as if he can somehow fall into him, attach himself to Gellert so he would never have to be without him again.

“I love you. Oh, I love you.” Albus’s voice quakes, and Gellert rubs his hands down Albus’s back.

They will not be able to stay like this, they will likely never see each other again, and neither of them have won.

But they have this moment, their own little world that it is only made them and their love and their warmth.

———

Gellert sits in Nurmengard, alone, and tired.

He is on the brink of insanity, and there are moments where he is sure he has completely lost his mind. Things begin to blur together, and he feels as if he is losing memories, thoughts slipping between his fingers over the years he is captive.

But he never forgets Albus, because how could he? Albus, in a way, is the only thing that salvages  _ something  _ of his sanity. He holds onto the ridiculous notion that he will be able to look into those blue eyes once again, feel his hair between his fingers again. 

He knows of Albus’s death when it happens, before he is officially informed. He had felt it, as if something had been torn from him. And even if Gellert did not think he would ever truly see Albus again, he had the knowledge he was still out there somewhere, living and breathing, and now he’s  _ not _ .

And it is crueler than being imprisoned, and he cries for the first time in years, and he feels weak and tired and  _ love. _ He feels love for Albus Dumbledore and he mourns, and does not want to live whatever little life he has left without knowing Albus is still in this world.

He does not live much longer, though. He is soon killed by Voldemort, and he laughs at him, can only see a man making the same mistakes he had, tearing himself apart for his ambitions. He does not feel fear and he accepts the death he has been given, and only thinks of Albus.

He wakes up in what looks to be a train station, bathed in light, and blindingly bright to someone who spent so many years in a dark cell.

He takes in his surroundings, and when he turns he chokes.

_ Blue eyes. _

“Hello Gellert.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t originally want to keep that last part in here, but then I thought why the fuck not. I wanted to have a somewhat happy ending. 
> 
> I also kinda want to turn the concept of them spending the afterlife together into a fic of its own, but that completely depends on how motivated I’m feeling at the moment I guess.


End file.
